Lonely Hearts
by Xxhold me too tightXx
Summary: The Joker and Bruce Wayne meet, and a series of unprecedented evens follows. Eventual B/J slash.
1. Feelings

**I hope you like my story, I'll post the second chapter tomorrow! :) My first story on FF and my first batman fic! So, as they say *be gentle***

* * *

He had always been alone. Amongst all the chaos and anger, he was still alone. Sure, he had henchmen, accomplices, etc. Call them what you will, but you couldn't call them friends. The Joker? Have friends? The very idea was absurd! No, he didn't have friends. Of course not. Why would a man like him even need them? He preferred to work alone, though he needed the mindless cronies.

* * *

Despite it's name, chaos needed a little order, just to get it going. Lately though, he had felt a little... lonely. Maybe lonely wasn't the right word, he wondered. That would show weakness. He sighed, trying to accept it. Yes, he was lonely. Standing up from his current seat on the grimy windowsill, he dusted off his coat and set off for the warehouse he was currently using as his HQ. He surveyed the room before leaving. Blood pooled around the dead mobster's stomach, where he had been stabbed repeatedly. Ah, the pride of a job well done.

* * *

He slammed the door on the way out, trying to keep hold of some sanity. (Not that he had much left) He had thought murder was a good solution for loneliness, and of course it hadn't worked. Finally, he got back to the warehouse and observed. His men were disgusting. No, they weren't men, they were animals! Was this the sort of company a criminal was expected to keep?? He had probably said it a million times, but he was a better class of criminal! One of the men was talking about a young woman he had raped and killed earlier that week. Joker walked up and shot him in disgust. That was one thing he wouldn't do. What was Joker to do? Lonely, and surrounded by male chauvinist pigs! (He felt a little sympathy for those feminist's cause. A teensy little bit.)

* * *

He thought for a minute. And thought some more. Aha! Eureka! An idea! He hurried to his room, smeared another layer of greasepaint onto his face, and raked his fingers through greasy hair. He looked pretty damn good.


	2. Thoughts

**Second chapter!! W00t. I'm really getting excited about this story now! I hope you like it, review please! :)**

* * *

Bruce could see the bat signal from here. The city skyline was dotted with pinpricks of bright light, lights that never seemed to go out. He closed the curtains, the black fabric obscuring the signal from view. The penthouse was deserted. He checked to make sure his armor was locked in tightly, the familiar feeling of the raised bat logo brushing his fingers. Just another night in Gotham.

* * *

The low buzz of the Batmobile blocked out Bruce's thoughts, and that combined with the darkness of the vehicles interior gave him a soothing feeling akin to that of being in a sensory deprivation chamber. It was strangely comforting after a day of long business meetings. Business. Wayne Enterprises. Those key words drew his mind back to his worries. Lucius Fox was resigning, and he had to, as they say, get his affairs in order. Or rather, get Batman's affairs in order. Who would supply him with weapons, vehicles, and all the technology a vigilante needed? He tried to think of someone who would know about those sorts of things... The only people he could think of were criminals, the kind of people he would be using that technology against. That was a no-go. What about a defense contractor?? It wouldn't look suspicious if "Bruce Wayne" was getting friendly with someone like Mark Sparta, the head of Sparta Defense. Sparta Defense was the biggest, baddest contractor out there right now, and though they claimed they only did work for the military, Bruce wasn't so certain. Most similar companies had a steady flow of underground activity, being as up and coming as they were. In fact, he wouldn't be at all surprised if they were running a full scale black market.

* * *

Was this the place? The seemingly abandoned warehouse loomed forlornly at him. Gordon had said they suspected this was The Joker's latest hideout. After his narrow escape from the SWAT team just a month ago, everyone was on there guard. Surprisingly, there had been little criminal activity in Gotham. Bruce had finally had a little time to rest, but of course, he could only dwell on his grief for Rachel, and his fury at The Joker for what he'd done. He was excited by the prospect that tonight he might get to show him *exactly* how he felt. Batman charged eagerly into the building, slipping quietly in through a convenient door on the side. Yet, something didn't feel quite right... Was it a set up? He wasn't sure. Creeping inside, covered by the shadows in the corner, he listened hard. He could hear some men speaking in hushed tones. Batman looked, but saw no one. The sound was coming from another room. Running through the empty chamber, he saw several doors, one cracked open. The men inside were sitting around a card table, playing poker.

* * *

He could now distinguish what they were saying. "Too bad the boss isn't here, eh? He'dda kicked your ass by now!" They erupted in hoarse chortles. "Yeah, I wonder where he is anyway?", one of them questioned. "He just said he's goin' out... Wonder what he meant by that? Out to eat?" They all guffawed. "Imbeciles," thought Batman. "Maybe he's finally gettin' himself a girl!", the same man wondered aloud. "Nah, I think he's batting for the other team, if ya know what I mean!" More unappetizing laughter. Ugh. Batman was lost in thought for a moment. The Joker? Gay? The idea of him engaging in such a human act as sex was appaling in itself. It was clear that he considered himself above everyone else, and in a way, he was. So, Joker wasn't there after all. The Dark Knight crept back outside, disappearing into the night.


	3. Actions

**Sorry about not updating, I've been really busy!! I hope you like this one, I had fun writing it. :D **

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Going out to look for The Batman had not been the best idea.

* * *

It was cold and rainy, and The Joker's seaweed green hair was starting to droop and melt in the rain. He had left the warehouse with the idea of going out for a friendly crime spree, hoping the reclusive bat would come out of his belfry. No such luck. No one was out in the narrows, and even the usual population of hobos had retreated to gutters that were out of the rain. Joker sighed in frustration, opening and closing his favorite switchblade, trying to think of what to do. It had been a few months since he had done anything, and he was getting cabin fever. He couldn't stay locked up in that damn warehouse forever, now could he?

He ran through his options. He could bomb something, but that would take time, and he didn't want to waste time blowing up some undeserving gothamites who wouldn't appreciate the care and finesse he used! No, that wouldn't do. He could find some random people to kill, but where's the fun in that? He wasn't your typical serial killer type. He wanted a good laugh, and the best laughs came from death a la social experiment. Of course, social experiments would also take time.

So he wandered aimlessly through the empty streets, hoping for a sign of life somewhere. It was then that he saw it. It was the bat, out patrolling the narrows.

A smile returned to his scarred lips as maniacal glee bubbled to the surface of Joker's consciousness. Things were about to get alot more interesting. The batmobile sped by, not noticing the tall figure lurking in the shadows. The Joker let out a high pitched scream, trying his best to imitate a dying woman or the like. "Oh, Batman! Help!", he cried, capping the end of his scream with brazen laughter.

The batmobile squealed to a halt, and Batman lept out, alert and ready for action. Joker stepped out of the alley he had been hiding in, and gave a cursory wave. "Joker...", Batman growled. The Joker gave a high pitched giggle. "Bats! It's great to see ya! How long has it been now?", he replied. He counted on his fingers haphazardly. "Two months now eh? I, uh, missed having you around." Batman charged up to him, grabbing him by the throat. He growled from deep in his throat, obviously angered by the amused wheezing the other man still continued, even as he was being choked.

Batman let go, and Joker stumbled, trying to regain his balance. "Same old same old, eh Bats?", he smiled. Batman grabbed him again, this time pinning his hands to the brick wall of the alley. Joker looked up at him, his crazed eyes lighting up. "I didn't know you were so kinky, bats! I would've brought some handcuffs!" He doubled over as the Bat punched him hard in the stomach. As soon as he recovered, he was met with another punch, this time in the nose. His laughter began to slur as blood poured from his nose.

Joker finally regained enough stamina to fight back, grabbing his attacker's arm and twisting in behind him. He heard a snap, and then a sickening crunch as he squeezed his hand with enough force to fracture the small bones there. Batman grunted in pain, his useless arm dragging along as he fled to the batmobile. "This isn't over, Joker!", he choked out, before speeding away into the night. The Joker laughed stridently. "Oh don't worry Bats, the fun is just beginning!"


	4. Mysteries

**Umm ok so I've been busy and life has been so-so. Sorry it's so short, I just wanted to update :P Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I don't know if I should continue this story, what do you think??? 3 always and keep reviewing please.**

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Joker's heart pounded as he weaved his way to the corner of the street, leaning against the stop sign. He took a moment to breathe, a smile playing at the corners of his scarred mouth. It was good to be back.

* * *

Bruce winced as Alfred pressed on different points of his arm, checking to see if it was broken. "Looks like a fracture, sir. Shall I call Dr. Fielding?" Bruce swallowed uneasily, his whole arm feeling like it was on fire. "Thank you, Alfred", he replied. He gingerly tried flexing his swollen fingers, wincing as he felt a stabbing pain radiate across them. There would be no using his hand for weeks, if not longer. Damn that stupid clown. He heard Alfred talking on the phone in the next room. "Yes Doctor, I know. And I'm terribly sorry about this, it's such a late hour." Alfred apologized, before hanging up the phone. The familiar sound of his well polished shoes echoed through the large room as he re entered the bedroom. Bruce looked at his butler expectantly. "Well?" Alfred smiled. "He'll be here in a few minutes. In the meantime, why don't you tell me what happened?", he asked concernedly. Bruce lay back on the bed. "It was Joker. He's back."

* * *

_The Next Morning_

Bruce yawned and stretched, worry wrinkling his brow. Alfred had taped a note next to the bed. Bruce sat up and began to read.

"Lucius Fox called. He didn't say to call back, and the number was private. He left a message for you."

Bruce reached for the phone with his good hand, quickly punching in the passcode for the mailbox. 1 message.

"Hello Bruce. I finished cleaning out my office today, and I thought I'd say a final farewell. It's been great working for you. But, as they say, ashes to ashes. Goodbye Bruce."

Ashes to ashes? What did he mean by that? Bruce had been shocked when Lucius went back on his offer to stay, as long as he wasn't violating Gotham's citizen's privacy any longer, but this was just plain strange. Something was wrong. Bruce smiled. He knew exactly what he would do while stuck in the penthouse.

Bruce scanned idly over the list of high-priority projects currently in development at Wayne Enterprises. Project Hummingbird, Project Blackbird, Project Mourning Dove.  
Mourning Dove?

Lucius usually mentioned anything new, but he hadn't heard a word on this particular project. Bruce had the creeping feeling that something was going on here. There had to be a reason behind Lucius' resignation, and Bruce was going to do whatever it took to find out.

* * *

**tee hee. what will happen next?**


	5. Unlocked

**Ooh hoo hoo! Tee hee! Ha. Ok. No Joker in this chapter, but I needed to explain things a little bit. This story is turning out to be alot more complicated than I expected, but alas, that's what happens when you start off not knowing what the heck you're gonna write! I hope you like this one, I just sat down this morning and typed and typed... :D Review as always puh-leassseee!**

* * *

Hot. It was hot. Could the building be burning? Like the mansion had burned?

Bruce sat up quickly, covered in sweat and panting heavily. The computer was still sitting on his lap. He shoved it aside, still feeling hot even though the burning feeling of the computer's blocked vents was gone. Raking fingers through damp hair, he threw the covers off and sank into the worn leather chair he had brought from the mansion. His father's favorite, and the only thing he had salvaged. He grabbed the computer and typed in the password, then pressed his finger onto the recognition pad. Security was a priority in business affairs, especially when dealing with so much money. He opened up the file for Mourning Dove.

PROJECT MOURNING DOVE ID #112099587 ALL FILES SEALED

Sealed? There wasn't even a place to type a password, and there was nowhere else clickable on the screen. Just those words, on a black and maroon background patterned with doves. He stared at the page, trying to see a way to open the file. Remembering his classes on cryptography, he searched over every tiny dove in the pattern. It was then that he saw it. One of the doves had a black head.

He clicked it.

Nothing.

Bruce slammed his hands down on the computer, crying out in anger as his injured one suddenly flared with pain.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!", he yelled internally.

He took a deep breath and went back to the task at hand. What could a black head on a white dove mean?

A dove symbolized peace.

Wait, wasn't that a dove with an olive branch? There was no olive branch.

He clicked the dove again and typed "OLIVE BRANCH"

He heard a low sound. He had heard it before, whenever he had accidentally mistyped the passwords on files. Grinning, he hit enter again. He had found the password entry.

But what was the password? His mind turned and turned, trying to assemble a meaning from his clues.

A white dove with a black head. The project's name, Mourning Dove. Mourning Doves had a black spot below the eye, but that was it. He examined the dove more closely, noting the strange pattern of the page. It looked almost like... a crest.

A family crest, maybe? He opened the customer archives and looked through the names. He saw many he didn't want to see. He gulped down contempt for those who had made the deals.

Odessa, Galante, Falcone, Riley, Sabatino, Sionis...

Sionis! He took another look at the name, racking his brain for the source. Aha.

The Sionis family had been "friends" with the Waynes when Bruce was young. He had always had the impression that Roman's parents had disliked his own.  
Bruce had seen the crest on an invitation to a society party hosted at their home.

It was certainly clear that Roman never liked Bruce. Bruce remembered him being a fairly unintelligent child, content to bully others to get his way instead of working for what he wanted. When he graduated from college, (probably due to bribery by his father) he was given a very high position in his family's company, Janus Cosmetics. It seemed his laziness had transcended into his adult life.

The year he cam back to Gotham, Roman's parents died in a "mysterious" fire that burned down the family's country estate. Everyone knew it was Roman's doing.

It turned out that Roman didn't have smarts for business, either. Bad business deals and bad products had Janus Cosmetics near bankruptcy in less than a year. In a last ditch attempt to save the company, Roman launched a line of makeup without testing it, and the resulting facial disfigurement to the wearers earned the company nothing but thousands of lawsuits.

Then, of course, Bruce took action. He loaned the company 10 million dollars to get back on it's feet.

It wasn't because of sympathy. Bruce needed to keep Roman busy doing other things besides burning down mansions. (Not that Bruce could say anything about mansions burning down)

Bruce poised his fingers above the keys, preparing to type the password, and unlock whatever mysteries the file contained.

He tapped each key slowly and deliberately.

S I O N I S

Bruce took a deep breath, and pressed enter.

* * *

**Ha! Cliffhanger!**


	6. Kidnapped

**Hey again, I know I promised an update wayyy sooner and I apologize sincerely. Now we're finally getting to the exciting part! I suck at author's notes so just read the story. XD**

* * *

Joker had a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't figure it out. As he paced the warehouse, he wondered why he felt this way. He suddenly realized it was his elation, still lingering from his fight with The Batman. He wanted very much to fight him again, and make it rougher. "Hmm.", he wondered aloud. "The only way I'll get to see him is to cause chaos, and the more I cause the more I see _him_!" He hadn't even noticed, but his henchmen had been standing there glaring at him. "What are you looking at?", Joker snapped. He pulled a pistol from his coat pocket and shot all 5 of them.

* * *

Bruce shut the computer, shocked at what he had seen, but glad to know the truth. He knew Lucius couldn't come back til everything was figured out. He picked up a nehru jacket. (Haha, I got you!) He picked up the phone and dialed the private line of Mark Sparta, head of Sparta defense.

"Mark Sparta's office, how may I be of assistance?", chimed a cheery female voice.

"Hello, this is Bruce Wayne, can you please put me through to Mr. Sparta?"

"Of course sir, one moment please."

Cue the elevator music.

Several seconds later, a man with a deep voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Sparta, this is Bruce Wayne of Way Enterprises, I would like to schedule a private meeting as soon as possible."

"Certainly. I'm free any evening this week. What works for you?"

"Friday night, at the Menuir Philippe?"

"It's a date."

Bruce hoped it wasn't really a date. He couldn't have that sort of thing tarnishing his image. Not that it mattered to him, but he couldn't continue to live as his alter ego if he didn't keep up appearances as Bruce Wayne, notorious playboy billionaire.

* * *

_Friday Night_

After friendly introductions and gestures, Bruce sat down with the infamous Mark Sparta. He was an imposing man, tall, and grecian looking, with a deep resounding voice. After getting their salad, they began to talk business. Just as they were getting to the subject of Bruce's planned "orders", a crashing sound exploded throughout the room. 10 men wearing familiar clown masks entered the dining room, looking grossly out of place among the wealthy upper class that frequented the establishment. One man pulled off his mask, to reveal what could be called another mask. It was *him*.

It was all Bruce could do to stay seated in his well padded chair. The clown licked his lips and strided up to Mark, appraising him from all angles. "Well, you must be Mark Sparta, if uh, I'm not mistaken." Sparta looked angrily up at him from his chair, eyes gleaming with malice. "Go to hell, Joker."

The taller man rolled his eyes and withdrew a blade from one of many pockets inside his orange silk-lined overcoat. "If I am going, you'll be going with me.", he giggled, and with that grabbed Sparta and began to drag him away. "Mr. Wayne!", he called, feet digging into the plush carpet as he tried in vain to resist the Joker's iron grip. Joker and his henchmen turned back around, and made their way back to Bruce's table.

"Hmmm, Bruce Wayne. Well, it could only do more good to bring you to hell with us."

A burly clown-masked cronie grabbed him as The Joker fired shots into the air, quickly clearing their path.

* * *

**More to come... ;)**


	7. Moments

**Yeah. Read and find out. **

* * *

"Wakey wakey!"

A nasal voice rasped, heavy footsteps coming closer as Bruce blinked his eyes sleepily. He suddenly remembered where he was when a pair of bright green eyes suddenly peered down into his own. He tried to move, but failed and realized he was chained to something. By the feel of it against his back, it was a table. Joker stared at him, sensing something familiar about Bruce. He shook it off, and continued his staring.

"So. Bruce Wayne, eh?", Joker said, his face tensing into his usual grin.

Bruce, being gagged, could only grunt in reply.

The taller man cirrcled around his prisoner, eyes darting anxiously over him. Bruce felt slightly violated somehow. He leaned down close to his face and licked his lips.

"Not very talkative, are we Brucey?"

The clown apparently found this extremely amusing, and began to wheeze and laugh himself into a coughing fit. Did he smoke? His rough voice made him sound as though he smoked at least 2 packs a day. Bruce struggled and eventually spit the gag out, panting heavily.

"What is it you want with Sparta?", he asked. He was careful not to drop into his Batman voice.

Joker turned and stared him down again. "Why, all I want is a little fun! Speaking of fun, I'm in a state of, uh, shock that the bat hasn't shown up yet! He's usually first on the scene."

Bruce felt his stomach lurch. If Bruce Wayne was locked up, so was Batman. He began to thrash around violently, trying to break free of the ropes he was tied up with. Being handcuffed only complicated matters more.

Joker sat back and watched, crossing his legs indian style and sitting down on the floor beside Bruce.

Bruce eventually stopped, heart pounding in his ears. Batman would be able to do it. Hell, Batman wouldn't have even been captured! But Bruce Wayne, the defenseless little rich boy couldn't fight worth shit, oh no.

He had to be Bruce, and Bruce was not nearly strong enough to break free of The Joker's clutches.

But he could try.

He struggled harder, trying to breathe but feeling choked by the ropes. Each movement only made him panic more, until he felt two strong hands gripping his shoulders.

"STOP!", Joker roared with anger. The stupid billionaire had him at his wit's end. He growled and his bony fingers clutched tighter at the other man's surprisingly well toned shoulders.

Bruce felt about an inch high at that moment. The clown prince was in his face, holding him down and it felt so wrong, so disgustingly terrifying it almost made him physically sick.

He finally knew what it felt like to be the victim, not the hero. The Joker was strong, very strong, strong enough to snap more bones with the ease he had already broken his nearly healed arm with.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

Bruce was almost surprised when he didn't hear an audible snap when Joker moved again, driven by some maddening unseen force. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he cut the ropes away and threw a still handcuffed Bruce onto the table.

"You really need to _relax_."

The villain drew the sharp blade along Bruce's neck, the tiny hairs there standing on end. He was paralyzed with fear.

Joker pressed the knife into his skin, drops of blood welling up as he dragged it across.

The metallic smell made Joker dizzy with lust- be it of a sexual nature, or a violent one. That combined with his familiarity...

Oh _God, _he even smelled familiar. It was intoxicating, and he leaned closer as the man beneath him trembled.

Slowly, he brought his lips to the other man's throat, tongue flicking out to clean away the work of his blade.

Bruce felt his whole body tense as this horrible man, no, this animal, this _monster _licked him.

It felt so wrong. So, so wrong. But it felt so _good._

Joker was a little shocked at himself, that he was even doing it, but something felt so _comfortable _about Bruce, and he felt he knew him like the back of his hand. He kept going, teasingly licking his neck and nipping at it, sometimes hard enough to draw blood.

Bruce teetered on the edge of insanity and arousal and sheer terror, heart pounding, thoughts of disgust blurring with what his body wanted. God, this man was depraved. He had no idea what he would do next.

The incessant mouth moved upwards, to Bruce's jawline, rough ministrations slowing down as the madman simply kissed along it. His lips moved further and further until they were pressed against Bruce's own.

Joker's hands moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, long fingers still clutching his knife. His right hand trailed down Bruce's back, jagged nails raking along the pale skin.

The Batman could wait.

* * *

***blushes* Was it awful?? **


	8. Scars

**Sorry it's so short, but this was the only logical way to end this chapter. **

* * *

Bruce felt a sharp stab of pain in his back. Joker was still kissing him animalistically, and now he was cutting him again, this time dragging the blade along his spine.

Bruce wasn't much of a masochist, but he could appreciate spiking pleasure with pain. This situation certainly fit the mold (well, some kind of mold).

The Joker slowly started carving into his back, scarlet droplets painting the pale skin in languid strokes. Bruce held back a moan as Joker moved back down to suck on his neck, hitting the spot where it felt so fucking good. He was chewing his own lip bloody, nervous as he was. He tried to relax but couldn't, and needless to say he was thankful when the madman ceased cutting into him. Somewhere in his mind he wondered what Joker had carved, but those thoughts were quickly banished as Joker suddenly stopped altogether.

Joker maintained a firm grip on his captive, panting salaciously and grinning down at him. For once, he felt odd. His mind was thrown back to the true object of his affections, The Batman.

Oh God, what was he doing?

He grabbed Bruce and slammed his head down on the table with a reverberating smack that echoed through the room.

"This _never_ happened, you hear me?", he hissed before practically sprinting out of the room, slamming the heavy door on the way.

Bruce sat up, dizzy with rage at the villain and himself, for giving into him.

He felt like slamming his head back down until unconsciousness drowned out the endless storm of emotions inside him.

Instead, Bruce sat up and clenched his fists, head and back still stinging with pain. He squeezed one hand tightly against the side of one handcuff, straining to slip it out.

"Shit!", he cried out in pain. He had picked the bad hand, incidentally. He still managed to free one hand, and immediately reached behind himself to feel the jagged cut the Joker had made only minutes before.

He traced it gently with one finger. Bruce felt his blood boil as he realized what his enemy had marked him with.

It was a J.


	9. Knowing

**Wow I'm really cranking out chapters here man! Haha. Thank you all for reviewing, I know now I can't give this story up, I gotta go through with everything and finish it. Not that it's near done or anything! Anyway, enjoy and keep reviewing! **

* * *

The Joker made a pathetic sight, sitting at the grimy card table, head in his hands. His henchmen were behaving differently around him, seeming nervous and out of sorts. It bothered him. Was it because he had killed five of them a few days ago?

Nah, couldn't be that. He felt someone sit down across from him, and looked up as the person spoke.

It was one of his men.

"Hey, boss, we took care of Sparta like you asked. He's sleepin' with the fishes.", he said.

Joker put on a false smile and replied. "Don't use those ridiculous goddamn euphemisms with me, asshole. I shoulda shot you before I ran so low on _em-puh-loy-ees_." He drew out the last word, smacking his lips together with finality before standing up and walking to the window. It was dark out.

The batsignal lit up the sky. Still no bat.

* * *

_The next morning_

Bruce was awakened by shouting coming from the other room. He pressed his ear to the door and listened, trying to understand what they were saying.

"We found the body when we got here, Commissioner. No sign of Bruce Wayne yet, and The Joker was gone by the time he realized we were here. We're looking for him now."

Sparta... Sparta was dead. Bruce felt sick, guilt sinking in. He decided to speak up. Now was the perfect time to use his dumb rich boy persona.

"Hello? Is somebody there? I'm in here!", he shouted.

He heard footsteps, and then the policeman began banging on the door, eventually breaking it down. They rushed in, Commissioner Gordon following behind them. They immediately unlocked his handcuffs with a universal key and helped him up from the floor. Luckily he had put his shirt back on, so they wouldn't be able to see the cut on his back.

Bruce pretended to be too faint to speak, and waited it out as he was carried by several policeman (His muscles weighed alot, apparently) to their squad car.

* * *

Damn it. Now Joker would have to find a new hideout. The warehouse had been perfect, and now that stupid Bruce Wayne had to go and get himself rescued by the boys in blue. He was sick of Gordon always messing everything up. Sometimes it felt like he took all the fun out of Gotham.

Tonight was gonna be his night. After the Wayne/Sparta disaster, his Bat would have to show up sometime.

He straightened his tie, and with a fiendish grin, started pacing on the dock. He hoped the message he had left would lure the Bat here. (Cute little family, dead as doornails. Of course he had left his card and where to meet him)

He heard a sound, faint at first. Heavy footfalls on the dock. A broken board creaked as it was accidentally stepped on by the visitor. Joker whirled around, handgun in one hand, knife in the other.

It was him, finally. "Where _have you been?_", he growled out, stepping closer to the masked man. The Batman made a noise low in his throat, obviously angry. "What do you know about Bruce Wayne?" Joker laughed, wheezing and nearly tearing up at the sheer _hilarity _of it all. His darling Bat has finally made the connection.

"What do you know about him, Bats?", Joker smiled.

"Billionaire, likes the girls, businessman, not much else. I asked you."

Joker grinned.

"I know that he's _you._"

* * *

**AM I DRIVIN' YOU CRAZY YET?**


	10. AN Important!

Hello dear readers and reviewers!

I am so so sorry to tell you this, but I am putting my fics Bombshell and Lonely Hearts on hiatus, indefinitely. I have alot going on right now, and I'm just not feeling inspired to continue these stories. I am seriously contemplating cancelling Lonely Hearts, I feel I am not doing justice to the pairing or the fandom. I feel very strongly that the character of The Joker should be handled with extreme care in fanfiction, and his personality is often "raped" (in a sense) by poor writers. I don't want to establish a reputation as one of those!

I will continue to write one shots and drabbles, and I am starting a new crossover multi chapter story called Stark Contrast. It's a Eureka/Iron Man xover. (Weird I know!)

Right now I am feeling very much inspired by the Marvel universe, and even though I hold DC close to my heart, the Nolanverse is, frankly, depressing me! I promise I will be back and better than ever with updates for these stories as soon as possible, and in the meantime, please enjoy my newest drabble (Pretty Girl) and more to come!

**xoxo Cherry**


	11. Residential

**I am back! I really have to apologize for how long it's been since I updated last... Now I can whole heartedly assure you that I will have a new chapter for you every week or more. I'm working on a new chapter for my other multi chapter fic, Bombshell. In the meantime, thanks again for reading and reviewing, and please continue to do so! Enjoy chapter 10!**

* * *

Bruce opened his eyes, heart pounding and panting heavily. He heard faint beeping noises and looked around for the source. He was in a hospital, it seeme. He looked for a clock, then remembered his watch.

1:17. He hadn't slept this long since... Well, probably never. But thank God, it was just a dream. A nightmare. The Joker didn't know the identity of Batman.

He was hooked up to a heart monitor, and had an IV in his right arm. He hadn't been hurt, had he?

At least he had a private room. Bruce caught a glimpse of Jim Gordon peering through the steel reinforced window in the door. He nodded, and Jim opened the door.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Wayne?", Jim inquired. Something didn't seem right. Bruce raised an eyebrow ever so slightly ."Fine, thank you. Update me, Commissioner. What have I been missing out there?"

Jim cleared his throat and sighed. "Mark Sparta is dead. They found his body in the warehouse, 2 shots to the head. We've recieved a video from The Joker. Apparently, he is working with someone new. Calls himself The Riddler."

Bruce feigned shock, and Gordon continued. "Do you know why Joker kidnapped you two? There are certain connections between you and Mark Sparta, connections I don't like, Mr. Wayne." He feigned shock again, protesting. "Why, Commissioner, certainly you don't think I've made some kind of deal with a mass murderer, do you?"

"Of course not. It's just... It raises concern. Look, I know about the deals Wayne Enterprises has made with crime families. I'm willing to overlook them, if you can give me some information about why you were meeting with Sparta.", Jim offered.

Bruce was stuck. There was nothing he could say that would help him now. The only thing left to tell, was the truth.

"I was arranging a weapons deal. For personal use."

"Personal?"

"To supply our resident vigilante. For The Batman."

* * *

The Joker and The Riddler were driving down a country road... No, that wasn't the opening to a joke.

"Hurry up, Eddie! Times a-wastin'!", called Joker to his new business partner. Did I mention he had a new business partner?

An extremely irritating, redheaded one. "We're in the middle of nowhere! You can break the frickin speed limit here!", he cried.

They were scouting the outskirts of Gotham for a new hideout, one they would possibly "share". Possibly was the key word, mostly because Joker felt like shooting his partner at the moment.

"We're almost there! Quit complaining!", Edward yelled over the roar of the engine. They were driving with the top down in Joker's brand spanking new car. (Actually, it was from the 50's, but in top notch condition."

"Is that it?", yelled Joker, staring down a huge, New Orleans style mansion. "Yep!"

They pulled into a long, winding driveway after Riddler picked the lock on a spikey black gate. "Are you sure this place is safe, Ed?"

"No. But I like it." They looked around. The grounds were unkempt, topiaries grown into huge, forbidding masses of green. To the left was a graveyard, complete with a gate that matched the one they had just passed through.

Then the house. Oh. It was tall and had once been a pristine shade of white, but now was a decrepit, creme color. There were 3 floors, it looked like, and white pillars dusted with cobwebs stood regally, overshadowed by huge willow trees.

"Let's go inside."

When they stepped closer, the door creaked open of it's own accord. This house was just their type of place. Stepping inside, the pair looked around.

Eery. It was clean.

"Did you have your boys come in here and clean, Eddiekins?"

The green suited villain shook his head in astonishment before speaking. "How the hell did this happen?"

The house (or the room they were in, anyway) was sparkling clean, down to the banisters on the elegant marble staircase.

Something wasn't right here.

The Joker closed his eyes and focused on listening. Riddler took a breath with the intent to speak, but the clown shushed him with a finger to his lips.

_Creak... creak... Creak..._

_**Snap!**_

Someone else was in the house, judging by the sound of the ancient floorboards. Joker motioned to his reluctant partner to follow, before quietly creeping into the dark hallway to the left of the staircase. They followed the sounds until they reached a set of ornate double doors, embossed with patterns in what Joker suspected to be gold leaf. Whoever had owned this house was loaded.

"You take the right side, I'll take the left.", Joker whispered. Edward nodded.

Joker held up a finger.

_1... 2... 3!_

They charged into the room, knives and guns drawn. (respectively)

At that moment, Edward Nygma did something irrevocably idiotic. He pulled the trigger blindly, the force of the machine gun making him grip the trigger tighter in terror. The 2 men standing in the room fell the the ground, each shot in various places.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, NYGMA!", cried the painted clown, shoving The Riddler forward and pulling his hands away from the weapon.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

Joker was fuming. "OUT! Get _out! _I knew I should've never hired you!_"_

Riddler put up his hands and backed out of the room, before making a run for it as soon as he cleared the double doors.

Joker sighed and bent down to see who his now dead trespassers were.

The two men both wore black tuxedos, and each had a small pin on their lapel. He leaned down to get a closer look.

_A black dove with the name "Sionis" inscribed on it's wing._


	12. Meeting

**Hey everybody! Sorry for the no breaks thing, I'm uploading this from my iPod. I really wanted to get this new chapter up! Enjoy!**

* * *

Joker had suspected that working with the newbie was a bad idea, but not this bad. What had he gotten himself into? He dug through the black-suited mens' pockets. Both had guns and wallets, no ID, no money. There was, however, a card. Not just any card, a king of diamonds.

Scrawled on one side of it was a phone number. Whoever this guy was, his message was clear. He wanted to top the Clown Prince of Crime. By know he was certain this was all part of some scheme, but what? And who was doing it? The clown's tongue darted out to lick the corners of his mouth, mapping the rough texture of his permanent smile. To call, or not to call?

He bent down low until he was looking directly at the dead men's faces. Gently, he brushed gloved fingers across one man's cheek.

"Ah ah ah- calm down now. Of course I'm going to call, who could resist an offer so... So, uh, tempting. That's the word."

The painted man pulled a knife with a dull, curved blade from his pocket, weighing it in one hand. He directed his attention back to the corpse, his face flushed with the sort of excitement that came from slaking his bloodlust.

"Oh, don't worry, boys. Show's over."

He rose to his feet and spun on his heels, walking away while whistling. When he was about 10 feet from the door, he whirled around.

The dull, jagged knife was still in his hand. Joker feigned sudden interest and cupped a hand to his ear, as though listening for something.

"What's that? An encore?"

He grinned, pale cheeks hollow and cadaverous, illuminating the deep circles beneath darting, vicious dark eyes, his face a cruel parody of glee.

"I'd be happy to oblige."

* * *

One severely bloodied knife and two Glasgow smiles later, Gotham's most notorious criminal was on his way to the Iceberg Lounge, the infamous club where the cities underworld glitterati vyed for attention. He surveyed the main entrance of the club, where crowds of it's more mundane patrons waited in line to enter the pearlescent structure.

Joker pulled around to the back entrance, where the real stars of the show were ushered politely downstairs, where you had to be somebody to get in. Surprisingly, The Joker had never been here before. At the door, a tall, burly man stopped him as he attempted to shuffle in with what appeared to be some mafia thugs. "Where's your club card, son?", the man asked in a gruff voice.

The villain snapped his head up, glaring at the bouncer. "Well, sonny boy, can't say I do. I like to consider myself something of a.. Uh, what's the word? Oh yes, VIP."

He drew out the acronym as the frightened bouncer raised beefy hands in surrender. "G-g-go right on in M-mister... Mister..." He didn't even have a chance to finish.

"J. Mister J. Now, can you tell me where I can find a Mr. Cobblepot?"

The man pointed shakily towards a round booth in the back of the dusty, underlit lounge. Joker patted him on the head and strode up to the table.

"Good evening, Wally. Can I call ya Wally? Ooh, or how about Oz?", quipped the clown, resting his hands on the table.

A short, portly man with a long, beak nose peered up at him over a pair of old fashioned spectacles. He was surrounded by what appeared to be his henchpeople- all dressed in circus costumes. He cleared his throat before speaking, a dry, grating, and whiny sound.

"Well if it isn't the clown! Finally decided to make an appearance, eh Joker?"

Joker crouched down to the Penguin's level, which was quite low, considering Joker's height of near 6'5.

"I just came by to use your phone," he said with a knowing smirk.

The short man leaned forward in his seat and spoke. "What the hell kinda place do you think I'm running here?" Nevertheless, he tossed over a cell phone.

"Muchas gracias, señor!", Joker cried in a fake Hispanic accent before pulling out the card and dialing the number.

As it rang, he wandered into a quieter corner, where the several cigarette smoking women, probably mobster's mistresses, scattered when they spotted him.

Ah, an answer!

"Let's get right down to it, ok? I want you to meet me at the Iceberg, at the bar. You'll know who I am."

With that, the man hung up.

Joker threw the phone down irritably. Who did this guy think he was, ordering him around? Even so, he was too close to the heart of the mystery to back down now.

Joker looked around to see who was sitting at the bar.

A few goons dressed in black and white, probably Harvey's. A pale woman with flowing, scarlet hair and emerald green eyes.

And a man.

He could only see his back, but he wore a black suit and fedora.

This was the guy.

"Good evening."

The man turned slowly to face him, a cigar dangling from between his lips. That wasn't the shocking part.

In place of a face, this man had what appeared to be a mask, roughly hewn from some sort of stone. It gave him the appearance of a charred skeleton, his eyes eerily bright in their sockets.

Joker didn't skip a beat.

"And what do they call you?" he asked with the customary smile.

The man's expression was unchanged.

"Most people don't know me. But those unlucky enough call me The Black Mask."

* * *

**Hey everybody, I just had my friend edit this for me It's been a while since I updated but rest assured a new chapter is coming very soon. Sooner than you think!**


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